


Let me help

by WatermelonTuesdays



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Awkward Hand Jobs, Awkward Sexual Situations, Comedy, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Season/Series 06, not super porny but also not really any plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 18:05:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16023155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatermelonTuesdays/pseuds/WatermelonTuesdays
Summary: Shiro is missing an arm and he's having a real hard time about it. *wink*-------“Ow!” Shiro yelped. He immediately regretted it.“Shiro?” Yup, there it was. Keith’s voice was muffled through the bathroom door, but Shiro could hear the vein of worry just the same.“I’m ok, stay out there!” He said it in his most commanding tone of voice, but it didn’t help.Keith burst through the bathroom door like he had never heard of personal privacy.“Oh.” His blue eyes went wide as he quickly took in the situation. “OH.”





	Let me help

“Ow!” Shiro yelped. He immediately regretted it.

“Shiro?” Yup, there it was. Keith’s voice was muffled through the bathroom door, but Shiro could hear the vein of worry just the same.

“I’m ok, stay out there!” He said it in his most commanding tone of voice, but it didn’t help.

Keith burst through the bathroom door like he had never heard of personal privacy.

“Oh.” His blue eyes went wide as he quickly took in the situation. “OH.”

Shiro was slumped over himself, sitting on the lid of the toilet, pants around his ankles. His penis was extremely visible in it’s hardened state, and he was shaking the sudden cramp out of his left hand.

Keith’s eyes fled in horror to the ceiling, his face turning a fitting shade for the Red paladin. 

“Do you – do you need help?” he stuttered, chin set defiantly even as he refused to look at anything that was not a ceiling tile.

But – perhaps we should go back and explain how this happened.

You see, Shiro had lost an arm. 

He had lost a lot of things in recent memory (personal pride included, but we’re getting to that); but most notably, he had lost his metal Galra arm. He lost it for good reason. It was, in all honesty, a dangerous piece of space junk. It deserved to be cast into a sun. 

Now, losing his arm might not have been all that bad, if Shiro wasn’t also absolutely exhausted from having his post-death consciousness ripped from the Black Lion and stuffed into the crumbling body of his clone. (It had been a long couple of days). 

The point is, Shiro was weak, generally exhausted by everything, and missing his right arm. 

It doesn’t really help things to point out that he’s lost the arm before – you know, the first time. Hunk tried pointing that out. Trust me, that level of irritation is not pretty on Shiro. 

It made sense, once he not-so-patiently explained it, that they had given him the metal arm immediately, and it had felt just like his own, so Shiro had never had to adjust to one-handed life. There were some things he did left-handed at first, before he trusted the deadly arm not to burn off his junk at the urinal; but he quickly got over those fears and had used the metal arm as his dominant hand ever since.

It is surprisingly difficult to re-train yourself to use the other hand. And everyone knows your non-dominant hand is a slack-jawed idiot compared to your massively intelligent and intuitive dominant hand. 

What I’m getting at here, is that Shiro needed help. He needed help and lots of it.

Preferably from someone who could handle his anger. Someone he didn’t mind seeing him be vulnerable. Possibly someone who had recently grown taller, and bulkier, and just all around sexier?

Keith stepped in before Shiro even had to ask. Which – of course he did. Keith was perma-glued to Shiro’s side from the moment that beautiful soul was fused back into a living body, and let’s not pretend he wasn’t.

Once Shiro was able to stay awake long enough to try getting out of his bed, Keith became his right hand. 

He helped him move around, helped feed and groom him, and even helped dress him. Shiro felt bitterly that he was more of a pet than Keith’s wolf. 

Thank god for elastic waistbands. Keith helped Shiro in and out of a pair of jeans once and then Shiro put a permanent ban on buckles and zippers until such time as he had a new working arm. 

The sheer proximity of Keith to his nether region had Shiro stuttering hard, and blushing like a fool. Adding a soft touch, and the intimate act of unzipping a fellow man’s pants, and Shiro was shook. Full on, shivering, trembling, trying to mentally force your blood back to where it’s supposed to be – Shook.

“I-I got it-it,” he had said, stumbling back and turned away. It took him a full 8 minutes to get his pants off and pajama bottoms on, but he did it, and he decided to be proud for the small things. He hadn’t actually popped a boner. That was a very good small thing. 

The worst part about it was that it didn’t get any easier. Keith helped him walk when he lost his balance, holding up Shiro’s bulk with taut muscles of his own. Keith helped cut his meat, pressing close so that his arm grazed against his chest while he worked the knife and fork. Keith helped him shave, staring intently at the hard line of Shiro’s face, and touching soft over the delicate skin, his mouth close enough that Shiro could taste his breath. 

It was sickening. 

Shiro hardly had any blood left for his brain. And I don’t know if you know this, but sweatpants, and pajama pants, and basically all elastic-band pants do nothing to hide boners. If anything, they accentuate it. They announce it proudly and publicly. Hey everyone! This man is inappropriately horny for his best friend. Right now! Come see!

And through this torment, Keith hardly left Shiro alone. 

And what sent Shiro to hide and (not so) quietly jerk it in his bathroom this beautiful evening?

Keith had made his bed.

That’s it.

That’s all it took to send Shiro running to the bathroom for a quick release. 

Keith had made the bed. He fanned the fresh, clean sheets over the mattress, got on his knees, and tucked the edge into the corner. Her crawled, hips swinging, to the next corner. Once all corners were tucked in, he smoothed the sheets down with slow, smooth swipes. He was leaning, body stretched, ass prominently displayed, to grab a pillow, of all things, when Shiro made his hasty excuse and ran for cover. 

Keith hadn’t even touched him, for crying out loud!

But that was just how desperate Shiro was after weeks of such close comfort. He just couldn’t stand it anymore.

So he gave in. I’m not going to say it was the first time he had given in over the last few weeks, because let’s be serious. He was a grown ass man, and what a grown ass man does in the privacy of his own bathroom is entirely between him and the tissue paper that cleans him.

But this was his first time that he couldn’t wait until the dead of night, when Keith was asleep a safe distance away. 

It was also maybe the first time he rushed. You know, because Keith was right there in the next room, and liable to come in and check on him at any moment. He had already come in twice when Shiro was in the shower because “I thought I heard you slip.” So yeah, maybe Shiro was going a little quicker, a little harder, than usual.

And maybe using your still relatively unpractised left hand to go to town on yourself is a recipe for a charley horse. 

So there you have it. That’s how this beautiful, touching moment came to be. 

So, if you recall from earlier, Keith, upon seeing his oldest friend and childhood mentor sporting a full erection and clear signs of personal abuse, asks the nice ceiling if he would like any help.

The reply got stuck in Shiro’s throat because – what?! 

“Oh my god,” Shiro finally spat out. He clenched his knees closed, which dis nothing to hide his boner, and then he covered it with a hand. It was meant to be an attempt to hide it from Keith’s view, but he pushed it against his own stomach so that his whole palm and stretched fingers could shield it. And that just gave him unnecessary friction. 

He had to bite his lip to keep from hissing.

“Keith, I – I’m sorry.” It was the only thing he could think to say. He wasn’t exactly sure that this was something to be sorry for, but apology seemed to be the best way to go.

Keith dropped his eyes for a brief sweep before they further inspected the ceiling.

“Do you need help?” His voice was steadier the second time around. This time his question actually managed to penetrate (ha) Shiro’s thick skull.

“Y-yo-you don’t have t-to…” Shiro stammered.

He didn’t realize he was staring, unblinking, at Keith’s face until the blue eyes darted a second look and locked on his own for a brief moment. Then they turned to his arm.

“You hurt your arm.” He said it very clinically. The same way he had said “you can’t get the buttons” before his thin fingers tucked into the band of Shiro’s jeans. The same way he said “I’ll cut that for you,” at the dinner table every night.

It only took one step to cross the bathroom, that’s how close they had been. 

Keith was on his knees before Shiro could respond.

“N-n-n-no-no No, Keith. You don’t ha-ve to… GOD…”

Keith’s fist was tight around him, and Shiro settled back with no resistance. 

This was happening. He hadn’t intended this to happen, he hadn’t forced this to happen. But now that it was here, by some divine grace of the universe, he wasn’t about to slap that gift horse in the mouth.

“Nngh…” Shiro’s voice hitched and whined out of him with irregular breaths.

“Is this good?” Keith wasn’t trying to be sexy. He sounded genuinely concerned. Shiro just closed his eyes tight in ecstasy and nodded wordlessly.

Keith reached above with his other hand and pried the cabinet open with the tips of his fingers.

“What – ahh,” was all Shiro managed to question.

“Where’s that massage oil we used for your shoulder?” 

“Oh-ngh ahhh, It’s here-oooh…” Shiro fumbled behind him and grabbed the small jar of oil from the back of the toilet. 

He opened his eyes to watch Keith pour some out and warm it on his hands before grabbing him even tighter. 

“Fuck! Keith!” Shiro’s toes curled as Keith set a brutal pace. “Oh God oh GOD oh god oh GO-OD!” 

He gripped the toilet seat with his hand, and pressed his heels into the floor. His hips stuttered against the porcelain beneath him, carried by Keith’s tight grip. 

“Shiro, look at me.”

The words nearly knocked Shiro out. 

He looked down and saw that Keith was staring at him. He looked almost angry. His eyes drank in Shiro’s face with an intensity that burned.

Shiro felt his eyes roll back into his head, but he fought it. You don’t disobey the command of the team leader. Especially not if that leader has a grip that tight on your junk. 

Keith grabbed the back of Shiro’s neck and pulled him roughly down. He stretched that lithe body of his up so that their foreheads knocked painfully together.

He kept eye contact with Shiro even from this distance. 

Shiro came in a wave that immediately wiped all of the strength from his body. He sank against the back of the toilet even while his dick continued to spurt wildly across Keith’s knuckles and wrist. 

Keith pumped him dry then stood to wash his hands. He does it like this is something he does every day.

Which, I mean, technically.

Keith is a 20-something year old man who until recently shared a one-room hovel with his mother. The moment he got a bedroom to himself again he jerked himself off. The moment. And he had done it every night since.

I mean, fuck! He had unzipped Shiro’s pants. Shiro’s! Sinew and sex-appeal turned human: Shiro! 

He has had his fair share of “personal abuse,” himself. I’m just sayin’.

“Uh, thank you, I guess?” Shiro had no idea what to say, so he went with the polite route. Instant regret.

Keith turned to him with a straight face (if anything can be said to be ‘straight’ on Keith, at least) and unreadable eyes. 

“Anytime.”

The word was a promise and a threat rolled in one and Shiro heard it, but couldn’t respond with more than a shaky gulp. 

He had the sudden thought that he was about to get much more than he bargained for.

Which he was.

“You owe me one,” Keith said, and he stepped out of the room.

Several days later, when Shiro could add “unable to sit comfortably” to his list of ailments, he realized that the decision to crank out a quick on in the bathroom was the best and worst decision he’d ever made.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey thanks for reading!
> 
> I wrote this before season 7 happened, and I'm not going not going to lie, this was super fun to write! 
> 
> I'm pretty sure I've seen a couple of fics with similar ideas, and this is just my take on the hot topic, lol.
> 
> I love comments, if the mood take you! And you can find me on tumblr as WatermelonTuesdays.


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